Yet not all was rosy in their relationship. Otherwise, why seek
the prudent, level-headed counsel of Ol' Doc Springer? Seems that
some other exotic creature was vying for the affections of She
Who Must Be Obeyed. A fellow sex slave, this one a gangly transvestite
who withers at the thought of being spanked by another. Love is
truly a many splendored thing.

What happened when these hopeless romantics squared off? Were
shoes thrown, hair yanked and press-on nails snapped off in a
hissy fury of confused gender rage? Were surprise sex slaves trotted
out with shocking revelations of their own, further clouding the
situation? Did Jerry schedule a future appointment with the dominatrix
for a light flogging and to have his face shoved hard into a bowl
of beef tripe while being forced to listen to recordings of Oprah's
Emmy acceptance speeches?

I'll never know. The Paula Jones sexual harassment case had just
been bounced like a mouthy drunk from a PTA meeting, and the cheeseheads
at the network decided to pre-empt the taut psychodrama being
played out on Springer with a special bulletin. Like we
wouldn't have heard about it eventually.

Good lord, how dangerously skewed our priorities have become.
Instead of reaping the educational benefits of watching a lovesick
hermaphrodite bitch-slap a man in women's clothes with a dog collar,
we were subjected to the tawdry spectacle of Greta Van Sustren
explaining a legal brief to Bernie Shaw. Is this the sort of thing
we want our children exposed to?

This is the legacy of Paula Jones, the almost criminal lowering
of journalistic standards. In a perfect world, no way an ancient
case of winky waving, especially an unsubstantiated winky waving,
wins out over a very real and current slugfest between disgruntled
submissives. These are people with a track record for excessive
pain tolerance. No telling how long they could go. But when the
winky waver is the big kahuna of the free world, forget about
it. In today's superficial society, pursuit of fame shoves aside
the more meaningful issues. We're all about the glitz.

So be it. What's done is done. U.S. District Court Judge Susan
Webber Wright issued her untimely ruling, and in the ensuing days
it's been pored over and picked apart by legal analysts across
the country. Debate rages on both sides.

Now I'm not an attorney--though I've often impersonated
one to get out of a fist fight--but it seems that the 40-page
brief boils down to a single point of law: Men should not wave
their winky at an underling. But if you must, if you are compelled
by circumstances beyond your control to wave said winky, do it
quickly, casually and one time only. Keep it low key. Make no
formal introductions. Don't use spread sheets, a pointer or overhead
projector to enhance your presentation. Don't play cutesy and
announce it as a new product launch. If you have some artistic
talent, or are close friends with an artist, perhaps a simple
smiley face drawn on the winky could help set the proper tone.

However, if the subordinate seems stunned, nervous, embarrassed,
creeped out, edgy, nauseated--or worse, has to squint to see what's
going on--the winky should be put away immediately and attention
turned back to the meeting. Unless, of course, that was the subject
of the meeting, in which case the meeting should be adjourned.
Before pounding on the table, make sure it's a gavel in your hand.
Afterwards, any interaction you have around the office with that
particular employee should be conducted sans winky.

At last the justice system, long regarded as unwieldy
and out of touch, seems to function as it should. These are the
kind of direct, concise definitions men need in the workplace
to avoid future unpleasantness. With this kind of solid groundwork
laid, don't be surprised if a dramatic rise in productivity boosts
the American economy over the coming months. We may be entering
a new era of teamwork and cooperation between genders.

And on a personal note, if anyone happened to see that
particular Springer episode, perhaps a satellite dish owner;
for the love of everything you hold dear, I beg you...tell me
what happened. Please.

Write or email me care of this publication, and don't spare the
graphic details. Illustrations are most welcome.